A Mother to Embarrass Me (7 page)

My best friend, I had thought. My eyes felt buggy as I looked at each person in the room.

Her laughter, though, set it all off. Pretty soon everyone was laughing their head off. Except me. Sure, if it had been one of
their
fathers who had tried to do some break dancing and had gotten stuck with his butt in the air,
that
would have been a different story.
That
would have been funny.

But no one's father would have tried it, I thought now, sitting on the sofa, staring out the window at the very sunny morning. No one's father would have thought that after fifteen years he could still be a champion break-dancer.

No one's father would have been wearing clothes from another era. Only my dad, only my mom, would do those things.

“It's funny,” Shauna had said. She had wiped tears from her eyes. Not Quasimodo tears, happy tears.

“I hope he's okay,” Jacqui had said, and Lance had said, “I hope the breaking didn't really break him.” Again my friends shrieked.

I squeezed my eyes shut at the memory, of people wandering away, going home, still laughing. Of Christian turning around to say goodbye, and instead just waving, with laughter seeming to bubble from him.

“Laura?” Dad's voice pulled me out of last night.

“Yeah?” I looked at him. There he stood in his blue jeans—ones that fit, thank goodness—and a shirt that said,
ORLANDO IS WHERE IT
'
S AT!

His neck was in a brace—just like a geek, if you ask me. In black marker he had written the words black marker he had written the words “
BEAT IT
”
BEAT ME UP.
I looked away.

“Now, Laura, honey,” he said. “You know I did not mean to injure myself.”

“Sure you didn't,” I whispered. I didn't want him to hear me, but I couldn't stand to be silent, either.

“For a while there I really thought my neck was broken.”

“Uh-huh.”

Dad's words brought the image of his larger-than-life butt sticking up in the air. The memory caused a genuine pain to hit me right in the gut. I mean, it actually hurt. Probably as bad as a knife would. Or pulling the ropes of a huge bell in a tower.
Sanctuary
, I thought.

“I couldn't know I…” Dad paused. Was he embarrassed too? Well, he sure as heck should be!

“I couldn't know that it was just a mild sprain. I did hear that snap. I thought it was broken.”

Dad walked over and sat on the sofa. He slipped his arm around my shoulders, wincing a little when he turned to look at me.

“Honey,” Dad said, and his voice was really low. “You gotta treat your mom better. You have to be nice to her. Can't you treat her like you used to?”

I took a deep breath. “Dad, things have changed between Mom and me,” I said. “Things have just changed.” And as soon as I said it, I knew it was true.

Once those words were out, that things had changed, the way I looked at life seemed to change too.

All of a sudden I would feel sad about something. A chord of music I heard on the radio or a commercial I saw on TV would get me in the gut. Tears would well up in my eyes. I couldn't re-watch the Hunchback movie. Somehow this seemed connected to Mom and me. The sadness, I mean.

At night, at times, I would wake up and hear Mom walking around downstairs, searching for something in the fridge maybe, or just because she was uncomfortable, and my heart would feel all stretched out from loneliness. Sure, Mary was a wonderful best friend. But Mom. She had been a
different
kind of best friend.

“Why did you have to change?” I would whisper. Then my eyes would fill with hot tears, and my throat would choke me, so that I'd have to sit up to catch my breath.

One late night I decided I wanted a bit of that back—our friendship.
If
Mom was willing to stop doing stupid things,
I
was willing to be her friend again. I went to sleep feeling everything would be okay, and the next day when she asked me to run with her to the store for food, I said yes.

“Go wait for me in the car,” Mom said. She handed me the keys. “You can start it if you want.”

I smiled at my mother, trying not to notice how tired she looked.

She was pretty pregnant, just over seven months, her tummy really sticking out. And her bosoms had gotten huge. It seemed like all at once she—what had Dad called it? Blossomed? Yeah, that was what he had said. “Your mother has blossomed, Laura.”

But
blossomed
seemed the wrong word to me. To tell you the truth, she looked kind of wilted, like she needed a good watering or something. She'd tied her hair up in a halfhearted ponytail and she wore no makeup. Her face was puffy, her eyes were puffy, her ankles were puffy. If you ask me, she was a puffball.

I noticed her ankles right off because of the Elmo slippers she had on. I stared at her feet.

“I'll turn on the radio,” I said, staring, “to that station you like while you change into your shoes.”

“I'll be there in a second,” she said. “Let me grab my wallet and see if I can find that list.”

“I think your brown shoes will look good with your outfit.” Really this was a lie. I couldn't quite remember what Mom had on. The Elmo slippers seemed to have hypnotized me and at the same time fogged my memory.

Mom padded out of the room and my trance was broken. I started to the car, calling out behind me, “Or your moccasins. They'd look great.”

The car was in the garage, and I had to go through Mom's studio to get there.

When Mom and Dad were having this place built, right after they were married, Mom didn't know she was going to be a good sculptor, but she was hoping. Not only did she and Dad have six bedrooms built in this house (with room to grow in the basement) for babies they would someday have, but she also had a studio designed for herself.

This room is huge and full of windows, on both the west and east walls, so she gets a lot of light in here. One wall is loaded with cabinets and shelves. These hold all her different art supplies. The other wall she has filled with pictures. Pictures of Dad and me. Pictures of the three of us together
. Pictures, I realized, that were of our lives before Mom changed.

I was on my way to look through them when I saw Mom's latest piece of sculpture. It was on a stand, half born it seemed. A baby. A new baby.

My breath caught as I looked at this thing so tiny and curled up and lifelike. The face wasn't finished yet, but the hands were perfect. One curled into a tiny fist. The other lay open, like maybe it expected a small gift. All at once, I wanted my little sister here with us, safe and sound.

Heavenly Father
, I thought.
It's time for me to have some company.

The thick smell of clay, kind of an oily smell, filled Mom's studio. A shadow passed on the floor and I realized Mom was going to the garage from the outside.

I ran through her studio out into the garage and hopped into the car. I hit the door opener on the visor and behind me the big white door started rolling up. Mom got to the car before I could even start the engine.

“Hey, babe,” she said, climbing up onto the seat. She gave a grunt and helped pull herself in with the steering wheel.

Elmo stared at me from the gas pedal, and then his twin appeared near the brake.

“Mom,” I said. “Mo-om.” I pointed.

“What, Laurie girl?” Then she looked to her
feet. “Oh, that. Honey, you gave me these for Christmas last year. Aren't they great?” Mom raised her eyebrows like I should believe what she said.

I ignored her gift comment. “Mom.”

“You know how I love Elmo.”

“Mom.” A bit of sadness crept into my heart and traveled out along my skin. She didn't care enough about me to change her shoes.

Mom started the car.

“Laurie,” she said, backing out of the garage and making a sweeping turn in the driveway. “Laurie, my feet are so swollen I can't put on any shoes at all. None. Well, maybe your dad's would work.”

She braked the car hard enough that I bounced in the seat a little. “Should I go get some of his? His tennis shoes?”

I looked at Mom's swollen face, then out the window. “Maybe,” I said after a moment. “We are going to the store. In public.”

Mom put the car in park, then threw the Elmos into the backseat. “Hold on one second. You can get my station for me. I'll see what I can do.”

I waited till Mom was out of the car before I started fiddling with the radio. First, though, I watched her waddle to the door. I mean it too. She waddled. Did she have to do that?

When she came back to the car, she wore a
pair of Dad's ancient penny loafers. Elton John blasted from the radio, singing about freedom in Philadelphia.

“Honey,” Mom said when she hoisted herself into the car. “Honey, I don't think this is any better. I'm afraid these won't stay on.”

I looked at her feet. They were tanned, puffy and swimming, almost, in Dad's shoes.

“I'm gonna have to go Elmo,” she said.

I should have known that we would see everyone I knew from school, a few people from church and some people from the neighborhood at the local grocery store. It was Meet Elmo at Allen's Day, it seemed. Embarrassing.

And we were in the checkout line when I heard Quinn Sumsion call, “Hey, Mrs. Stephan. I got me some Oscar the Grouch slippers at home.”

things to change about MY MOTHER!!!!!!!

• 21. Elmo
  

A few days later Mom made an announcement at the table. Maggie Lauritzen was over for the night and so was Mary. The three of us had planned an evening of watching old movies down in the basement theater, staying up all night talking and eating junk food. We had come to the dinner table dressed in pajamas.

The sun still sat high in the sky. Dad had brought home Thai food for dinner. The house was cool and smelled like roses.

Mom looked at everyone after we had said a blessing. “I have an announcement.” I was glad she didn't tap her water glass like she had in the Mexican restaurant. “Something happened to me today.”

“What now?” I asked. “Twins?”

“Laura,” Mary said. She slapped at my hand. Already she smiled at my mother.

“No, Laurie,” Mom said. “You are so funny. Something happened today. It was a good thing.”

We all looked at her. I prayed that this had nothing to do with disco dancing… or whatever that was that had frozen my father in the butt-up position.

“I got a call from the Rocky Mountain Fitness Center in Spanish Fork. The manager noticed when I was working out”—Mom lifted both hands high into the air, like maybe she hefted weights herself, even though really she just held a bottle of soy sauce—“that I'm going to have a baby. And guess what?”

“He noticed you're pregnant?” I said. “Hmm. That's a surprise.”

Mom pretended not to hear me. Instead she talked to my friends and my father, who all leaned toward her. Maggie's short brown hair hung over her peanut-butter curry. Mary looked from Mom to me, then back to Mom again. Now she grinned.

“What, Jimmey?” Dad said. “What happened? Ignore the Oldest Child.”

“They asked me to be in a television commercial. For their fitness center. To be aired everywhere in the West where they have a gym.” Mom
pursed her lips like she does when she's trying to hide a surprise from me.

“What?” I said. Only it wasn't really a
what
that came out. More of a
grock.

“The Rocky Mountain Fitness Center,” Mom said again. “Can you believe it?”

“You took a modeling job?” Dad asked.

“Yes!” Mom said.

“You're kidding,” Mary said, and she swung her head in my direction and grinned even bigger. “Cool, Mrs. Stephan. The Rocky Mountain Fitness Center.”

“Yeah,” said Maggie. “That is
really
neat. My brother works out there.”

“The Rocky Mountain Fitness Center. Hmmm. But you're… um… you're showing,” I said. I gestured with my eyebrows at Mom's belly, which was hidden beneath the table.

“What?” Mom asked.

“I said, you're
showing.
It's
no-tice-able
that you are pregnant.” A bit of sticky rice seemed to have gotten stuck right in the middle of my throat. I swallowed to make it go down, but it wouldn't budge. In fact, it felt like it was expanding. “I don't think you want people to notice that you are… um… in the family way.”